So the best part of getting my head shaved was getting Mike Spinelli and a garage full of mechanics to laugh, but the next best part was getting a tour of the garage’s separate back garage.

We enter.

And find paradise. That’s Frank Spadaro, who organizes some dream drives. I want to go back on a drive with my baja now so bad.

This Lancia touched me deeply.

It has the world’s first production V6.

Seeing this felt like a privilege.

A beautiful V8 Ford.

More to life than Europeans.

Not that there’s anything wrong with the Continent’s finest.

The only OSCA I’ve ever seen. This was Maserati after the Maserati brothers left Maserati.

Beautiful.

The air was thick in here.

Frank was very proud of the Testarossa.

Even he could’t get enough of the flat-12.

It’s an imposing vehicle, no question.

Right behind it was a cocaine-white 400i.

As we left, we poured over the Spadaro’s Alfa, which they run in vintage racing with some success.

It wasn’t looking astoundingly happy that day, but I can’t talk down on a Giulietta. I’m pretty much an Alfisto at this point.

Finally, there was this last mystery. I never figured out what it was, but damn was it gorgeous.

We packed up in a bit of a rush, I took the train back to Manhattan, packed my bags, and flew straight to Montreal, where I was met by some truly kind, welcoming people, some angry dude with a Napoleon complex, and the anticipation of seeing F1 cars in the morning. A good day.